


Alone I Cannot Be

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief: Keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret. George wants to know if what he's feeling is grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When George entered the flat he expected to feel sad and depressed, but he didn't. Not really. A little anxious, maybe, but definitely not sad. In fact, he wasn't sad at all. Not during the funeral or at the memorial service and not now. Just anxious and worried, which is stupid really because there was nothing to be worried about. He thought of Percy and all the times his older brother had called him and Fred monsters while growing up. He had always just laughed and teased Percy about being a humorless spoilsport, but he supposed Percy was right all along. He couldn't even feel sorrow for the death of his own twin after all, the one person who had always been by his side no matter what. Did that make him a monster? George gave a little shrug to the empty room. Oh well, he thought. It didn't bother him.

He heard the soft patter of Ginny coming up the stairs behind him. "Are you sure you want to do this now?" She asked. "You can wait, you know. Mum and Dad and the others will be glad to help you."

George shook his head. "No, I'm ready to get out of the Burrow and get back to having my own space." He was glad when Ginny refrained from mentioning that he had never had his own space before. Fred had always been there. "Besides I don't think Mum could handle this at the moment."

Ginny nodded quietly, but still she wavered by the door. "Still… You don't have to do it now. It's only been a month."

George threw up his hands in irritation. He loved his siblings, he really did, but for the past few weeks they'd been driving him crazy. They treated him like a delicate fragile little bird that needed to be protected and coddled. When had George Weasley ever needed to be coddled? George snorted to himself. "What would you have me do, Ginny?" George demanded, turning around to finally face his sister. "Seal up the shop and flat and preserve it as a shrine? Or live here with all of his stuff just lying around like some sort of macabre museum?"

Ginny huffed and folded her arms, her long red hair shimmering in the afternoon light as she shook her head in exasperation. "Fine. I was just trying to think of you."

"Yeah, well, don't." George snapped. "I can handle this just as well as the rest of you. Merlin, it's like you all think I'm going to just shatter if somebody even mentions Fred's name."

Ginny's arms fell as she stared at him. She seemed… surprised. What? Was it really that surprising to her that George was coping with his twin's death? "You really don't get it, do you?" She asked softly.

George shrugged. He didn't know what she was referring to and frankly he didn't care. He didn't want to deal with any riddles today. George reached up to scratch his ear, only belatedly remembering that there was nothing there to scratch. When his fingers touched the rough scar tissue he quickly moved his hand and brushed back some of his red hair as though he had meant to do that all along. George had a feeling he was being terribly transparent, but Ginny didn't comment on it. "Well, come on, let's start in the bedroom."

The flat above the shop had had two bedrooms, but still they had shared a room. It wasn't even a question. They had always slept in the same room. It was too quiet at night without Fred's snores. Besides, they had to have a room for their experiments and the spare was perfect.

George immediately went over to Fred's bed and pulled the blankets and sheets off, placing them in a bag. Ginny took the quilt and began to fold it carefully. "Take the quilt back to Mum. She made it for him, so she can decide what she wants to do with it. I'll toss the bed sheets; Fred had a nasty habit of sleeping in the nude so I doubt anyone would want these."

Ginny made a funny little snort in the back of her throat. He could see her biting her lip, trying to hold back the laughter. George got why she wanted to be serious for this, but he couldn't stand seeing her so somber. A little laughter wouldn't hurt. Fred would have wanted it that way.

"Know anybody who needs a bed?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I'll toss it as well then."

"I'm sure we can find someone who'll take it," Ginny interjected sharply. She was glaring at him.

George shrugged and turned around, rolling his eyes so his sister couldn't see. If she wanted to keep the bed then she could. It didn't bother him. Merlin, he just hoped she wouldn't get so worked up over every little thing. So Fred had slept there. So what? Fred had also slept during History of Magic too and yet no one was bothering to put a wreath on top of his old desk. George moved over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. He quickly began tossing Fred's clothing onto his own bed, getting them ready to sell or throw away. He supposed he could keep the clothes himself – they wore the same size after all – but it would just be far too creepy.

George grinned when he pulled out Fred's acid green dragon leather jacket. It was atrocious looking. Fred absolutely loved it. When the shop started taking off Fred had decided that they should start dressing better. So he found the most expensive as well as the ugliest piece of clothing he could find in all of Diagon Alley. It was hideous. It was perfect. George looked at the bed where the rest of Fred's clothing lay. For a moment he hesitated. What if Fred came back for it? George shook his head. That was the stupidest thing he had ever thought, and considering all of the stupid ideas that he and Fred had come up with over the years that was saying something. Fred wasn't coming back, not for his jacket, not for anything. Fred was dead. George carelessly tossed the jacket with the others.

Ginny cried out. "This? You're going to throw out this?" She asked, holding up the jacket.

"Who else other than me or Fred is going to wear that?"

"It doesn't matter!" Ginny protested, pulling the jacket against her chest. "Fred loved this jacket!"

"Then maybe we should have buried him in it."

It was sort of alarming how quickly Ginny turned red. "I get that you're dealing with Fred's death in your own way, but frankly I'm tired of it." He could see her knuckles turning white from where she was clutching the jacket and the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. "We're hurting too!"

Ginny turned and quickly ran out of the room. George shook his head. He should have known his sister wouldn't have been able to handle this. It was something that needed to be done, something only George could do. George quickly stripped the entire flat of everything that was Fred's until it looked like there had only ever been one person living there. George stood in the living room, looking at the suddenly empty flat. That anxious feeling was back. George rubbed his arms, trying to will away the goose pimples that suddenly appeared there. What did it matter if he got rid of Fred's stuff? It wasn't like he needed it anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

George glared at the bright sunlight streaming in from the window. He was positive he could make the sun go back down if he continued to stare at it disapprovingly. George willed an image of Percy in his mind and tried to copy his older brother's mothering and pompous glower. The sun continued to rise.

Obviously that wasn't going to work. He supposed it was time to get up and start fixing up the shop. He needed to get it ready for its grand reopening. George continued to lie there.

Any minute now he was going to summon the energy to get going, put a big smile on his face and get on with his life.

Instead George pulled the blankets tighter around himself. The flat felt so empty without Fred's things lying around. Had it always been this big? It felt like the rooms went on for miles. George burrowed deeper into the covers and turned away from the rest of the world. Who cared if he slept in? He was the only one there. Fred wasn't going to come jumping on his bed anymore, singing "Georgie Porgie" at the top of his lungs. Because Fred was dead.

George crashed into awareness, his heart stuttering as he was jolted awake by the sound of heavy banging on the shop door below him. He didn't even remember falling asleep. George sat up and threw the covers off. Whoever it was it sounded urgent. He quickly pulled on his boots and a shirt and raced downstairs. Yanking open the door he saw his father standing in the doorway, looking nervous and scared.

"What is it? What's wrong?" George demanded. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. Thoughts of Death Eaters and battles and explosions filled his head.

Arthur continued to stand at the door awkwardly, not really saying anything which just made George even more nervous. He was giving his son a very peculiar look that George couldn't quite place. "You're not dressed?" Arthur finally asked.

"Well, I just got out of bed."

"It's four in the afternoon."

George blinked confusedly. He hadn't realized that. How could he have slept for over twelve hours? Despite the fact that George had always held a certain amount of pride in his laziness and irreverence, there was something horrifying about sleeping so much. He might as well have been dead. Like Fred. Of course, he wasn't going to say that out loud. Especially not to his father; he would just worry. George shrugged in an attempt to act nonchalant about the whole thing. "Yeah, well, I had a late start this morning."

Arthur peered at George from over his glasses. It was a calculating look. It was always strange for George to see his act father like this, like he was someone capable and commanding and not dotty and irresponsible. His father - the goofy, strange weirdo who got along with the likes of Xenophilius Lovegood - could be downright scary when he needed to be. "Your Mum and I have been trying to contact you for hours." He finally said.

"Sorry to make you worry," George answered as he stepped out of the way to let his father inside.

For a minute or two Arthur didn't say anything, just looked around the lonely shop. George followed his gaze, taking in all of the eye-catching tricks and novelties that he and his brother had invented and the layers of dust and cobwebs that covered them, dulling their color and sheen. The shop held the touch of Fred; it was his last testament.

"I was talking to your mother," Arthur finally began as he turned around to face his son. "We think it might be too early for you to move back here. There's plenty of room for you at the Burrow."

George laughed. "Sorry, Dad, but I can't take any more of Ron and Hermione shooting each other lovey-dovey looks from over the table." George clasped his hands together and puckered up his lips. "'Oh, Ron, let me help you de-gnome the garden," he cooed in a high, breathy voice. "'I do so love watching your pasty, freckled, noodle-arms ripple in the sunlight as you grab those gnomes with your sexy, shirtless self.'"

Arthur smiled. "I don't recall Hermione having ever said that."

"I took some liberties with it." George gestured upstairs. "You thirsty? I think I might have something in the fridge that hasn't spoiled by now."

Arthur nodded his head and followed his son up the stairs into the flat. George heard him suck in a deep breath somewhere behind him when they entered the front room. "It's so empty," Arthur murmured.

George privately agreed, but he didn't say that out loud. Instead he wandered into the kitchen and pulled open the Muggle refrigerator. "Okay, I've got juice and milk. Oh, no, wait; the milk is past due by about three months. Oh, and there's little things floating in the juice. Water?"

"Nothing for me, thanks."

George shrugged. Wise choice. He walked back into the living room where Arthur was already seated on the bright polka dot couch. He and Fred had bought it specifically because it clashed with everything else in the room. George sat in a wicker chair across from his father. He could tell that his Dad was concerned about something and wanted to talk to him about it.

"George, I…" Arthur began quietly before pausing. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say. "George, your mother and I are worried about you. You haven't talked to any of us since you moved back here, you avoid contact with other people, and Ginny told us how… detached you were when the two of you were putting away Fred's things." Arthur shook his head. "We think… We think you need to come back home. Just for a little while. Until you're better able to accept-"

George threw up his hands in frustration. "Why is it that everyone seems to think that I can't live without Fred? Last time I checked we were not Siamese twins. I am my own person."

"Nobody's saying that-"

George sent his father a withering glare. "Really? Because it seems like everyone is walking on eggshells when they're around me, like I'm going to suddenly break or something! What about you? You're the one that lost a son! Why don't you worry about yourself instead of me?"

It was strange watching his father's face first turn pale white and then rapidly become splotchy with red. "I am grieving for Fred," Arthur stated quietly. "But you're my son too and I'm worried about you."

"Yeah, well, don't," George snapped. "I'm doing fine. I've accepted it. Fred's dead. See? There. And now I'm moving on with my life."

George felt his heart break when he saw his father bite his lip and look down, absently playing with a thread on his jacket just to avoid looking at him. George could feel the shame welling up inside of him. What he said had been unnecessarily cruel. "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He sighed deeply. "I'll come by the Burrow early tomorrow. Spend the day with everyone if that'll help."

Arthur nodded his head. "I think everyone would like that very much."


	3. Chapter 3

George blinked against the sunlight as he stared at his childhood home. The countryside around the old, lopsided house had exploded in a sea of violent reds, oranges, and yellows as the trees had started to change colors. When had had it become autumn? He could have sworn that it had been summer only a few days ago. George shook his head. No, he remembered now. Ginny and Percy had their birthdays back in August. It was early October now.

George sighed as he made his way up to the house. He didn't really want to see anybody at the moment. His family would just end up making a big fuss over him, asking over and over how he was coping with living all alone in that flat without Fred. Sometimes he just wanted to scream at them. He would be able to cope just fine if they didn't keep bringing it up.

Still, George put on his infamous smile and sauntered through the door. He immediately spied his mother bustling about in the kitchen, her long patchwork skirts dusting over the stone floor. "Hello, Mum," George called out cheerily as he reached out to give Molly a hug.

"George! You're here. I'm glad," Molly said as she reached around to pat him on the back. She looked just as frazzled as always with her red hair sticking out from underneath her cap and white, powdery flour coating her hands. "Your father wanted to spend the day with us but I'm afraid he was called away to the Ministry. He's had no rest since the battle, poor dear. I do hope he'll make it back home in time for dinner." Molly smiled happily at him as she worked the pastry dough into the pie pan.

For the first time since arriving George genuinely smiled back at her. This is what he had missed. He missed just being able to relax, to feel safe somewhere without the thought of Fred's death weighing oppressively down on top of him, smothering him. George sighed in contentment as he closed his eyes and just let his mother's soft humming and the breeze from the open window wash over him.

"Don't be lazy!" Molly chastised playfully. "Come help me with this pie."

George opened his eyes. "Sure," he said as he stood next to her in front of the counter.

"Take the elderberries and mix them with the sugar and flour in the sauce pan. Add a bit of lemon in there, will you?"

George nodded along as he poured the bowl of small black-colored berries into the boiling mixture, sneaking to save one of the small pieces of fruit from its fate and popping it into his mouth. George winced as he chewed. "Bah. Tart."

Molly laughed. "Really? You and Fred used to love elderberries. The two of you would sneak out before dinner and stuff yourselves full of them straight from the bush. I don't know how many times I had to send Percy out to chase you back inside. What a handful you were!"

George shook his head, a smile still on his face. "I don't remember any of that. Come off it, Mum, me and Fred weren't that bad. At least, not until we left for Hogwarts and we actually started learning magic. But before that? I'm sure we were just like angels."

"I started having heart palpitations the minute you two began to crawl," Molly informed him. "Let's see, you and Fred had to have been about seven when the two of you convinced Ron that he was adopted and that his real parents were Muggles that had abandoned him on our doorstep. It took weeks to convince him that he really was our son and that we loved him."

George shook his head sadly as he stirred the berry mixture. "See, there you go again making up these wild stories. It's not your fault. It's the dementia. It's just one of those things that happens when you become old and decrepit- Ack!" George gave out a startled yelp when his mother swatted at him.

George just grinned at her as he helped her pour the mixture into the pie. "What else do you remember about us?" He asked after a while. Listening to his mother talk about Fred… he just wanted to hear more. It sort of hurt, but in a good kind of way. Not at all like when Ginny or his father had tried to talk to him about his twin. His Mum just made it so easy for George to miss him.

Molly smiled softly as she delicately placed the dough on top of the mixture, pressing down on the edges so that they formed the top of the pie. "I remember the day you two were born," she said gently. "You were the oldest, you know, by a full thirty minutes. You used to lord that over Fred when you two were little. Every argument the pair of you got into always ended with that. You were the eldest so therefore you were obviously right. Your father wasn't there for the birth. He had been at an Order meeting. I was stuck here in hiding. I couldn't even go to St. Mungo's. I had your Great Aunt Muriel with me and my sister, your Aunt Lydia. No Healer, no midwife, nothing. It was absolutely terrifying! It was a wonder nothing went wrong! But it was quick and you and Fred were just as fine and healthy as you could be, bawling your little lungs out. In unison, of course." Molly gave a soft laugh before trailing off. She stared down at the pie, not really seeing it, lost in her memories. "My brothers, Gideon and Fabian, had been killed in a Death Eater attack three months before. When I saw that I had two identical twin boys I wanted to name you after them. I… I couldn't give you their names, though. It-it would have been too hard. So, I named you George and Fred instead. Same initials."

Molly sucked in a deep breath and wiped away the tears that started gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Well! Let's get this pie in the oven."

George nodded thickly, unable to say anything. His throat had closed up and his tongue felt thick and heavy; even if he wanted to speak the words would have just come out a garbled mess. Just like that everything was ruined. That light, happy feeling he had was gone. It felt like he was plunging back down into the depths of the freezing sea after having finally clawed his way to the surface. There was a strange emotion inside of him, like there was a great cold stone in the middle of his stomach, weighing him down. He needed to be free of it. He needed to claw it out.

"I meant to tell you," Molly began. George could hear the fake cheer in her voice. "Percy's coming 'round for dinner as well. Won't that be nice?"

George scowled. Merlin, of all the people he had to deal with. He didn't particularly want to talk to anybody, let alone Percy. Weird, awkward Percy who was quite possibly the most irritating person on the planet. George already knew how dinner was going to play out: Percy would remain stoically silent for the entire meal, avoiding his eyes, lest Mum and Dad rope him into "comforting" him. Ha! Percy's attempts at comfort had always been laughably pathetic. He remembered the time when Percy had tried to cheer Ginny up after a caterpillar she rescued from a swarm of ants had died. That conversation had been so incredibly awkward and condescending; he just reminded her how silly it had been to expect it to live after so many bites. Really, he and Fred just had to charm all of Percy's books to give them caterpillar legs. For his sister's sake.

For some reason George felt inexplicably angry at Percy all of a sudden, as though he alone was responsible for ruining this once perfectly happy day. And he had been happy. "Oh, I forgot to mention," George suddenly exclaimed. "I'm going to have to cancel dinner," he lied.

Molly looked up shocked and saddened by this news. "Why?"

"I promised Lee I'd meet up with him. Sorry, I forgot all about it when I told Dad I was coming."

"Oh, you're going out with Lee?" All of the hurt from turning down dinner was wiped away and replaced with a smile. Molly beamed at him. "Oh, I'm so glad you've started seeing your friends again! I've gotten quite a few letters from Lee and Oliver asking about you. They've been very worried. Don't worry about a thing. I'll explain everything to Percy and your father. You go and have fun with Lee." Molly started humming again as she turned back to her oven.

George turned around and left the house, pleased that his lie had worked so brilliantly. Maybe he would drop by and see Lee after all.


	4. Chapter 4

George stared up at the building, debating whether or not he really wanted to do this. He hadn't seen Lee since the funeral. It was strange; all of sudden George didn't know how he was supposed to act around him. For a moment he stood there unsure of himself, wondering if he should just go back to his own flat where it was safe. He hadn't seen Lee in months. He hadn't wanted to. He didn't want to see anybody. The red-haired man shook his head in frustration. He was acting stupid. It was Lee. They'd been best friends since their first year at Hogwarts. There was no reason for him to feel so anxious about meeting him.

George remained rooted to the spot however. He had missed Lee, missed laughing and talking with him, so why didn't he want to see him?

In the end Lee decided for him for at that moment he came jogging out of the building to greet his long-time friend. "George, what are you doing standing out here?" Lee demanded, looking worried. "Angelina and I saw you from the window and-"

"Well, I came for a visit," George stated, easily slipping back into that old, playfully sarcastic tone of his. He'd forgotten how effortless it was being friends with Lee. "But it seems like you already have a visitor. Angelina, huh? If you don't want me around, I understand. I wouldn't want me around either if I were you. No girl is safe with me. I mean one look at this," George gestured sensuously at his body. "How's the poor girl supposed to resist?" He heaved a dramatic sigh. "It's like a curse."

Lee nodded stoically. "Every time I see you I want to throw myself at your feet and beg you to take me hard, you beautiful man."

George patted his shoulder in sympathy. "I know, I know."

Lee grinned wide, the fear smoothing away at George's joke. George swallowed thickly and looked away. It physically hurt to see the relief in his friend's eyes. Had Lee been that worried about him? "Come on up!" Lee said. "Angelina will want to see you. It's been forever since we've all been able to get together like this."

George bitterly noted that not all of them were there before quickly squashing the dark thought before it could take root in his mind. Still George couldn't help but wonder what Fred would think of Angelina being with Lee. He had always adored her even after they had broken up.

Lee took him inside the building, upstairs to the small flat that he rented where Angelina was waiting for them. She was just as beautiful as she had always been. "George!" She rushed towards him, hugging him tight the moment she saw him walk through the door. "It's been so long! Why haven't you answered any of our letters?"

George pulled away. That heavy, awkward feeling was coming back. "I've been busy. There are still a lot of things I have to do-"

"You mean with Fred's estate?" She asked.

There it was, the source of that dark feeling: Fred. Why did it always have to come back to that? Why couldn't anybody give him a little peace? George knew he'd start to feel better if everyone just stopped talking about it. Pretend like it didn't exist, like it didn't matter. "No," George answered, a little too harshly. "With the shop."

Angelina nodded, embarrassed. "Right. Of course."

For a moment the atmosphere was thick and silent with awkward tension until Lee clapped the two of them on the shoulders and said, a little loudly, "Me and Angelina were just about to go out and get a drink. Want to join us?"

George shrugged, trying to let go of his irrational anger that he felt towards Angelina. "Sure."

They ended up in The Leaky Cauldron, a firewhiskey for each of them. It wasn't long before they were laughing at some outlandish story involving skinny dipping and garden gnomes. "Yeah, so, apparently this one huge gnome – I mean he was a giant for a garden gnome, so maybe about a foot high? – had given Ron and Ginny hell." George went on. "So they carried him all the way to the pond and planned to toss him in. Teach him a lesson about messing up Mum's garden. Of course they had no idea that me and Fred had decided to take a swim. There's a bit of a drop off the embankment that makes for a good hiding spot so when we heard them coming we decided to go there and scare them. They came up to the embankment but before we could do anything there was this loud splash and all of a sudden this angry gnome was chasing us around in the water, trying to bite our bits off!"

Angelina and Lee laughed into their firewhiskey. George chuckled and leaned back. "So, what about you two?"

Lee sobered up and wiped his eye. "What about us?"

"When'd you two get together?"

"Oh, we're not together," Angelina quickly stated. "I'm not really dating right now. There was this one bloke, but he was Muggle and when I went into hiding I just… I couldn't tell anybody, you know?" Angelina shrugged, a bitter look crossing her face. "I just never could really explain to him about the Death Eaters and the War. I don't know why, I just couldn't… burden him with it, I guess. So it looked like I disappeared. He probably thinks I'm dead. I-I can't really go back now, can I? I'd have to tell him the truth."

"I'm sorry," George said, trying to think of some way to comfort the pretty girl who sat across from him. He hated himself for saying it. He used to get so angry when people said "sorry" about Fred. It wasn't their fault so why did they insist on saying "sorry"? But it was the only thing that George could think of.

Angelina smiled and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's done now." With that she stood up. "Well, now that I brought the night to a crashing halt," she said with a laugh. "I'm going to go home. See you guys later. Oh, and George? I mean it. I want to see you again."

Angelina waved goodbye as Lee ordered another round of firewhiskey. "Well, your story was pretty good," Lee said slowly as the alcohol began to take effect. "But I'm positive Fred never told you about the time he got trapped in the girl's dorm while wearing a dress."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

George and Lee were giggling like loons when last call came around.

George felt happy. He'd forgotten what being happy meant. He sighed blissfully as Lee told him something that was probably very funny, but it was too difficult to understand with all the slurring. George laughed anyway.

"Wonderful, George. Just great. Can you even stand up?"

George blearily opened his eyes – when did he close them? – to see a tall, thin, red-haired man standing in front of him, his spectacles glinting in the low light. "Percy! Care for a drink?" George said. He might have yelled that. He wasn't sure.

"They stopped serving alcohol about forty minutes ago," his brother said rather primly. "I'm sure the pub would like to close now."

"What are you doing here then?"

Percy reached out to steady Lee as he stood up from the table. "A friend of mine was here a little while ago. She contacted me when it seemed like you and Lee could use some help getting home."

George smirked as he wobbly made his way to his feet. "You have a friend? I'll believe that when you prove she isn't imaginary."

Percy scowled but said nothing. He led the two boys out of The Leaky Cauldron and Apparated with them the moment they were outside.

George collapsed onto his knees the second he was sure the world had stopped spinning in a desperate attempt to regain control over his revolting stomach. From the heaving sounds he could hear in the background it was apparent that Lee at least had already lost his battle.

He felt cold hands grab his shoulders. "Come on, George, get up."

"I'm not George. He's George, I'm Lee," he replied.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Sorry, George, that trick doesn't work quite as well with Lee."

"What? Someone said my name?" Lee called out as Percy corralled them inside some dark building, pushing them up the stairs.

George hissed as bright lights suddenly flooded his eyes. Blinking rapidly he found himself standing in his own flat. Lee had already made himself at home on his couch and was fast asleep. Another cold touch and George looked to see Percy standing next to him. Even in the summer his brother's hands were like ice. "You need to go bed," he commanded and with that Percy marched him into the bedroom like he was a child. George allowed himself to be guided down onto the bed as he watched Percy fuss about his room. It was strange having Percy help him like this. Had it been Bill or Charlie or Ron he wouldn't have thought anything of it, but this was Percy. They'd never been very close.

"Why'd you come?" George asked.

Percy sighed. "I already told you, my friend-"

"Yeah, but why did you come. Why didn't you get someone else?" George demanded gruffly. His mouth felt dry. "We don't even like each other."

Percy grew very still at that. "We're brothers."

"So? That doesn't mean anything. It didn't stop you from leaving."

He saw Percy clench his hands. "Do you really want to do this now?" He asked coldly. "Because I thought we worked all this out."

George snorted as he laid down, closing his eyes. His head was pounding and he was irritable and angry. He didn't even know why. "Whatever, Percy." George mumbled, not really knowing or caring what he was saying. "Go find your friend. It's that girl, isn't it? Dark-haired Audrey something? Way to get over Penelope, Perce. Kind of like the way you got over Fred. 'Course you're real good at that sort of thing, getting over people who don't matter. It's not like Fred was a Ministry official or anything. Maybe if he was you'd have put more of an effort in saving him."

He drowsily thought he heard the door slam but he was too far gone to really notice.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

George groaned as he woke up to a migraine and a churning stomache. He opened his eyes and looked around at his rumbled clothes and empty flat. There was a bitter taste that clung to his mouth. It wasn't from the alcohol.

"Damn it," George muttered as thoughts of Percy came flooding back to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Lee had already left by the time George managed to crawl out of his bed. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table confirmed that morning had long since passed and it was well into the afternoon. With a groan George made his way into the bathroom, yawning blearily at his reflection. George scowled and edged closer to the mirror. There was black ink all over his face. George snorted as he realized it must have been Lee. His friend had forgotten to write the words backward, leaving George to angle his head awkwardly in the mirror while trying to read the note.

Dear George, the text read. Made sure you were still alive. Gone home. Send me an owl.

Pushing himself away from the mirror George clamored inside the old iron tub. With a flick of his wand scalding hot water began to gush on top of him from the shower head. George slid down into the tub and leaned back as he tilted his head up, letting the water hit him in the face. If he opened his mouth he would drown. It was very peaceful and soothing, just lying there. The sound of the water banging against the dull iron drowned out any other sounds. George dreamily thought about sinking under the water, just closing his eyes and letting go, when he was startled awake by the sound of crashing water. The water was overflowing and spilling onto the white square tiles of his bathroom floor. Just how long exactly had he been daydreaming? With a jerk George quickly shut off the water and Vanished the shallow pool that had filled the room.

He weakly sagged back against the back of the tub, his mind once again brought back to the present. He couldn't believe the things he had said the Percy the night before. Although… George scowled as he let himself sink deep into the hot water, his nose just peeking above the surface. He had only said what everyone else had been thinking and were too scared to say out loud. Nobody wanted to bring up the past and drive Percy off again. Maybe Percy needed to hear it.

With a heave George threw himself over the side of the tub, crawling his way out as water sloshed onto the floor. He was being a git. Percy did not let Fred die. He knew that. He needed to apologize. George had always liked to think that that was the difference between him and Percy: he knew when he was wrong.

George threw on a robe, slipping slightly on the spilt water as he made his way to the living room where the fireplace stood. He grabbed a handful of powder from a small clay pot that was perched on the mantle and threw it into the fireplace. Immediately George could see into Percy's living room- clean, neat and frighteningly well-ordered. There wasn't a single thing out of its place.

"Percy!" George called out. He had to be there, it was his off day. Unless he decided to go into the Ministry anyway… George snorted and shook his head. He never understood his brother's obsession with work. "Percy!" He tried again.

Suddenly the face of a black-haired woman appeared in the flames. It was Audrey What's-Her-Face. "Get Percy, I need to talk to him," George stated. "It's important."

Audrey shook her head, making the flames jump. "I can't. He's out."

"What do you mean 'out'?" George asked. "Just where exactly did he go? He only goes to three places: his home, the Burrow, and the Ministry."

"Then he's at the Ministry," Audrey snapped. "Go contact him there. Take all the time you want. Try the Burrow while you're at it. Just don't Floo here."

George ground his teeth in frustration. "Look, I know he's home. I'm his brother. I should be able to talk to him if I want."

"Well, he doesn't want to talk to you. Why should he? So you can tell him some more about how it's his fault that his brother died?"

Just like that George felt his stomach cave in as an icy sweat overcame him. He watched Audrey's scowling face disappear and the flames die out. George shakily stood up and went into the bedroom. He pulled on his clothes and left his wet robe to dry on the wooden floor as he made his way downstairs. He could feel the guilt churning inside him. He knew what he did, but actually hearing it said out loud…

George stopped in the middle of the dark shop. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the day he and Fred had left. George had been telling his family that he was going to re-open the shop for weeks now and he hadn't even so much as turned on the lights. There was a thick layer of dust coating the merchandise and the air was silent and still. It was a tomb. A tomb for Fred.

Merlin, was this who he really was? Was he just some mean, angry, sarcastic person without Fred? George remembered when life was actually fun. Fred made it fun. He was always the more outgoing twin, the one with all the drive. Fred would push and push and push whenever George felt unsure about something, overwhelming him until he got his way. Sometimes, when he was with Fred, he had felt as though he was simply along for the ride. It was Fred's show, George was just the sidekick.

George ran his fingers across a shelf, watching the little tracts appear in the thick dust. He hated feeling like this. He just wanted to go back to being the person he was before. Whoever that was. He didn't even know.

Suddenly George was reaching inside his pocket and pulling out his wand. He whipped it towards the shelf that held their collection of Extendable Ears and with a scream blasted the merchandise to pieces. It felt good… all this mindless destruction… destruction that he was the cause of. "Confringo!" George yelled as he yanked his wand towards the cash register. "Confringo! Confringo! Confringo!"

"Protego!"

George blinked at the figure in front of him, confused at the sudden appearance of another person. Ron stood there, slack-jawed, with his wand held out in front of him, a powerful shield protecting him from the damage that lay all around them.

"Ron, what are you doing?" George asked.

Ron spluttered indignantly at the question. "What am I doing? What am I doing? What are YOU doing, George? You've blasted almost everything in here!"

"I'm thinking of going in a new direction is all," George said with a smile and a wave of his hand. "The shop just needed a little decorating."

The expression on Ron's face darkened at the joke, but he nodded his head anyway. "Okay, George, okay." Ron looked around at the carnage before whistling low. "So, I'm guessing this is going to push back your grand re-opening. Do you want some help?"

George actually didn't want help, thank you very much. He did do all of this on purpose, after all, but in the end all he said was "Sure."

Ron nodded again and quietly the two began flicking their wands at the mess, straightening the tipped over shelves and tossing out the things that couldn't be repaired. "You know, I think you need something for the ladies," Ron said after a while. "All you've got is the WonderWitch line and, let's face it, girls can get stuff like that almost anywhere."

"Oh?" George cocked an eyebrow at his younger brother, his voice dripping with mockery. Just what exactly did Ron know about retail? "And what did you have in mind?"

"A calendar featuring the great heroes of the Second Wizarding War," Ron answered with a grin. "Think about it: Me and Harry, the two most lust after guys in all the Wizarding World-"

"Oh, Merlin, no! I don't want to think about that!"

"Posing for all the ladies, winking, flexing our muscles-"

"Please stop."

"Wearing nothing but-"

"ARG! What is this? Have I suddenly gone deaf? Has my brain destroyed my ability to hear in self-preservation?"


	6. Chapter 6

George grinned at all the happy faces as they stared in excitement at the items that lined the shelves. He felt like he was drowning.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had finally reopened to the joy of every student at Hogwarts, even if the same couldn't be said for the school's staff. The customers were laughing and trying out the merchandise like there wasn't something horribly wrong. George felt his head swim at the overwhelming sensation of déjà vu. He remembered another time not that long ago when the shop had its first grand opening and it was like a party and Fred was there teasing the customers and Verity was trying to figure out how to work the cash register.

Hiring Verity had been George's idea. She hadn't been the quickest wand in the duel but she was pretty and didn't mind being laughed at and that was enough for George at the time. When they'd been forced to close the shop Verity had gone back to her parents' house somewhere up North. He hadn't heard from her since. For all he knew she was dead. It wouldn't surprise George if she was.

"This place looks amazing."

George nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Charlie's voice behind him. "Yeah, well, Ron did most of the work," George said. "I'm just the eye candy."

George looked over at Ron who had been swamped by a group of what looked to be fourth and third years, demanding to be told about his adventures with Harry while the two had been on the run from the Death Eaters. Ron humored them while pushing the store's wares on them at the same time, being sure to include little tidbits like "Harry used a Decoy Detonator to sneak into Umbridge's office to steal Slytherin's locket. Only seventeen sickles." George nodded in approval at his younger brother's sales pitch.

Charlie smiled while looking all around. George could see how shiny and wet his eyes were. "Fred would be proud," the older Weasley said. It was meant to sound casual, but anyone could hear the slight break in Charlie's voice.

George felt his face flush hot in anger. What would Charlie know about Fred? Charlie had never really spent much time with Fred or George or any of the younger Weasleys; he was always off doing his own thing and, when he graduated, he left them all the first chance he got for Romania of all places. All for his stupid dragons. Charlie never cared about people. Not Fred and not George. It was always about those stupid dragons.

George bit the inside of his cheek before he said something he would regret. He had learned his lesson well.

Speaking of which George perked up at the sight of a familiar head of curly red hair that looked like it had been beaten into submission with hair cream. Percy stood near the front of the shop looking just as awkward and out of place as he always did. No one paid much attention to him, they just continued to shove against the crowd, jostling into him. He looked like he was about ready to go into a full-blown panic attack at the unruly mob of people. George smiled at the sight, relieved that Percy had accepted his invitation and came after all.

"Percy," George called out, pushing his way through the throngs of customers. Percy gave him a quick, tight smile and a slight nod. "Audrey's not with you?"

"She didn't want to come," Percy explained. "She thought it was a mistake. She said I was 'giving in.'"

George could think of a few choice words to describe Percy's sort-of-girlfriend, but he was being good and keeping those words to himself. George considered it an improvement.

Percy shrugged. "I just don't want things to end up the way they were… you know, before."

George nodded. "Yeah, I don't either. So, I'm just going to say I'm sorry and leave it at that, because, let's face it, our conversations never end well. You're just going to get horribly nervous and say something weird and condescending and I'll end up telling a joke that, while hilarious, will inevitably be wildly inappropriate."

Percy gave out a short, quick laugh that sounded more like a loud sigh. "That's true, I suppose."

George grinned and reached into his pocket to withdraw a treat. "Good! Try a Canary Cream? It's on the house."

Percy shook his head and politely declined. He'd long since learned not to take anything from either Weasley twin that wasn't first triple-checked for charms. George shrugged and popped the sweet in his mouth, ignoring the indignant yell from his older brother at the sudden onslaught of feathers as George quickly changed into a bird and back.

George laughed as Percy stomped out of the store, huffing as he pulled the yellow feathers off of his neatly pressed robes. He didn't want Percy to think he was going soft after all. George turned away from where Percy had left back towards his customers and quickly ducked down low. The rest of his family had arrived. He could see Ginny and Hermione in their school uniforms, home for Christmas vacation. Ginny had tears running down her cheeks as she laughed at Harry's green face, the inevitable outcome of tasting any of the various Weasley candies. His mother, however, was openly sobbing while his father had that same shiny-eyed look that Charlie had. He didn't want to deal with their emotions at the moment. He could barely handle his own, much less theirs.

George quietly sneaked upstairs to his apartment, sighing as he closed the door, blocking out the mad rush of people. He was free. He could still hear the commotion through the floorboards though as he made his way to the bedroom that he and Fred had converted into their workshop. The room was filthy and disgusting and crowded with various objects and covered in questionable stains, but it was undoubtedly his favorite room in the entire building. He absently picked up a plain looking boomerang and began toying with it.

"What are you doing up here?"

George silently cursed Charlie's habit of creeping up on people as his brother came up to stand beside him. He supposed his Charlie's catlike grace came from working with animals, but it was still more than a little annoying. Charlie had foiled more than one prank with that ability of his. "Just needed to get away for a little bit," he said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"It's hard without Fred here, huh?" Charlie asked. George clenched his fists at the question. He could feel his fingernails digging into his skin as he tried to keep from decking his brother. He loved him, he just had to remember that. But Charlie could make it so hard when he just said things like that. Couldn't he see that Fred was the last thing George wanted to talk about? He needed to forget and he couldn't do that when everyone kept bringing him up.

"Yeah, something like that," George replied coldly, hoping that Charlie would take the hint and leave.

Of course he didn't. He was kind of oblivious that way. Charlie could give a lecture on the innermost secret feelings of dragons, but he couldn't figure out a human being to save his life. Instead, Charlie just looked over the table full of half-finished projects, studying them with interest. "What is all this?"

"Just some new items for the store," George replied. "Like this boomerang. No matter how you throw it or in which direction, it'll always come back to you. Watch." George simply dropped the boomerang, letting it fall from his hand, only for it to jump straight back up into his palm. "It's mostly finished, it just needs a name. It's hard coming with good puns about boomerangs."

"Was this a project that you had started with Fred?"

George gritted his teeth. "No, actually, this is an idea that I came up with all on my own. I occasionally do that you know, think of something without Fred's help. Of course now I'll be forced to do it all the time seeing as how he's dead and all. Oh, no, what will I ever do?"

"George!" Charlie snapped.

George heaved a sigh at his older brother's hurt and shocked expression. "Sorry," George said, slowly and more calmly. "What I meant to say was no. Fred didn't have any part in this. I came up with the idea and I made it. Ron did help though." George gave a smile at the thought of Ron. Who would have thought ickle Ronnikins would be able to come up with good pranks? For the past two weeks he and Ron had been working on the shop and coming up with new ideas together. Ron was terrible at creating charms and couldn't even brew a decent Canary Cream, but he did have a fun sense of humor.

"I had no idea Ron had a knack for this," Charlie said. "It'll be a shame when he starts Auror training."

George jerked his head up. "What?"

"You know, Auror training. He wants to join Harry and become an Auror," Charlie explained. "He talks about it all the time. He's always raving about the things Harry is doing and about how he'll eventually join him in hunting down the rest of the Death Eaters."

For a second George just stood there staring at his older brother before storming off without another word. He ignored Charlie's calls and stomped down the stairs back into the crowd of waiting customers. He threw a glare at a trio of giggling girls who were trying to box Ron into a corner and grabbed his brother by the arm, pulling him away from his admirers.

"Hey! What's going on? I was about to sell them three Pygmy Puffs… each!"

George ignored him and dragged Ron through the back door and into the alley. "What is this about you becoming an Auror?" George demanded.

"Huh?" Ron asked. "What do you mean?"

"You're joining the Aurors!" George snapped.

Ron stared confusedly at his older brother. "Yeah… everyone knows that. Look, I know you've been… 'hard to talk to' lately… but this wasn't a secret. I wasn't trying to keep anything from you."

"And what about the shop?" George demanded.

"I figured I'd stay here and help you for about a year and then move on," Ron said. George could see the angry flush that was beginning to blossom across his little brother's neck. "But I don't want to help you run the store for the rest of my life. I'm not Fred."

"If that's the way you feel then just go and join the Aurors now," George spat out. "I don't want employees who are not committed to this store."

"I'm doing this as a favor to you!" Ron yelled.

"I don't need any favors! I'm fine! Why can't anyone see that?"

"Because you're not!" Ron answered hotly. "You're depressed and unhappy because Fred's dead and so you want to make everyone else just as unhappy as you! You think just because you smile and make a joke that means you're dealing with it? You're not! You don't even try to cope, you just run away all the time!"

George had already turned away and was heading back into the shop before Ron had even finished his sentence. "Don't come into work tomorrow," George called out over his shoulder. "I'll just hire someone who actually cares about this place."


	7. Chapter 7

George could hear the laughter of customers and Ron's dorky sales pitch through the floorboards. He vaguely remembered telling Ron to leave and not come back. He should probably go down there, call him a git, and throw him out, but that would require getting out of bed. Besides it wasn't like there was anyone else who could man the shop. George supposed he could but he couldn't be bothered to move. He woke up feeling so old. Everything hurt.

George lifted up his hands, watching the sunlight shine through his fingers and the shadows they cast on the blanket. These were Fred's hands. They were exactly the same as Fred's. There were minor differences, of course: freckles that didn't quite match up, lines and grooves running in different directions… but they were essentially the same. He couldn't help but wonder if they would have aged the same. Twenty years from now when George looked in the mirror would he still see Fred's face? If Fred had lived would his hair turn white like his? Would he get the same wrinkles, the same paper-white complexion, the same sagging skin? But that was the problem, wasn't it? Fred would never age. He would never get married or laugh or grow old. He would never think up another prank or go travelling. Fred once told him a long time ago that one day he would travel the world.

George turned over onto his side, examining the wrinkles in the sheets. They looked like mountains. Colossal ridges that his fingers had to traipse across in order to reach the other side. George wondered what it was like to be dead. He tried to imagine what it was like to not exist anymore, to not be able to think or feel. Fred was gone. His body was still there, buried deep underground. It would continue to rot and decay until there was nothing left but bone and dust. Maybe a thousand years from now some Muggle archaeologist would dig him up and try to figure out who he was and what his life was like. They would look at the broken bones and crushed skull and would know that something terrible had happened to him. An accident, perhaps, or murder. They wouldn't know him; they wouldn't feel anything for him. To them, he was just some dead guy who lived centuries ago. George felt like the last bits of Fred he had left were slipping through his fingers. Soon it wouldn't even matter. No one would know his name or even be aware that a man named Fred Weasley had ever lived at all.

"Must you mope about like this?" Fred asked as he bounced on the bed beside George's head. The old mattress squeaked as it rocked underneath Fred's weight.

"My life is over!" George wailed. "My fair lady Katie Bell has spurned my love! There is nothing left for me! I shall seek sweet release!"

"Oh, shut up," Katie grumbled and shoved George from his four-post bed onto the icy stone floor of the dorm he shared with his brother while Fred laughed.

George wrenched his eyes open, gasping for breath, as he was suddenly drenched with cold water that smelled like salt and fish. The image of Fred still fluttered through his thoughts and he was unsure if it had been a dream or a memory.

"So, are you awake?"

George wiped the water from his eyes and glared up at Bill's scarred face. His older brother just smirked and held up the empty bucket threateningly, ready to conjure up more water. "What was that for?" George asked petulantly. "I was getting up soon. I'm the boss; I can sleep in if I want."

Bill snorted. "You did more than just sleep in. Ron's already closed up."

George looked in wonder at his surroundings, finally noticing for the first time how dark it had gotten. When had the sun set? George groaned as he sat up, scrubbing his face with his hands. Really, had things gotten that bad?

He felt the dip in the mattress as Bill came to sit beside him. "The whole family's coming to Shell Cottage tomorrow," Bill said. "Sort of a pre-Christmas celebration now that Ginny and Hermione are back from Hogwarts on vacation. Are you coming? Tomorrow's Sunday, so you can close shop for the day."

George just grunted, not bothering to actually give Bill an answer.

Bill shrugged. "Or, I suppose if you won't come I can always bring the sea to you again."

"Fine," George answered. "I'll be there. But I don't want anyone going on and blubbering about how it'll be the first Christmas without Fred."

Bill stood up solemnly and nodded. "Alright," he answered. "If you don't want to talk about Fred then we won't talk about him."

"Good," George answered before flopping back down onto the mattress and burying his face in the blankets. He was asleep again before Bill had even left the room, falling back into those half-forgotten visions of the past.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

George stomped through the sand, letting the icy winter wind whip about his face. He had shown up, smile set firmly on his face and forced himself to listen to everyone's fake cheer. He tried to ignore how guarded everyone seemed, how careful and delicate. Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were all lost in their own little world, oblivious to the people around them. It was always sort of like that with them. Percy and Charlie had dedicated themselves to staying out of the way and were trying to avoid being pulled into the petty squabbles that would undoubtedly arise at any Weasley gathering. Tensions were high in the kitchen as his mother and Fleur battled it out in an attempt to gain control of the evening. Apparently Fleur was trying to add some spices to his mother's famous roast to make it taste just a little more French. His father was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to figure out a model airplane that Hermione had given him, happily unaware of the third Wizarding War brewing just a few feet away from him. If Fred was there they would have been in the middle of playing a prank. They would have covered Percy in feathers or pink paint, forced him to interact with them, make him chase them. Charlie would have tried not to laugh so as not to hurt Percy's feelings and would have failed miserably. His father would have looked up and remembered where he was. His younger siblings and their friends would have pulled themselves out of their secret conversations and joined in on the fun. Fleur and his mother would forget their differences in order to band together to save the roast from whatever malicious machinations he and Fred would have concocted.

George sat down on a log and looked up at the dark, churning sea. It looked angry and volatile. He could hear heavy footsteps sinking in the sand behind him. George didn't bother to acknowledge his older brother as Bill came to sit beside him.

"You know you're going to have to deal with this sooner or later."

"I am dealing," George replied.

Bill shook his head. "Why do you think we're all here? We've all been where you are now. I've watched Ginny rage and attack the things around her, heard Ron say some of the most vile things, saw Percy break down in tears, and held onto Dad when he wanted to show Fred something only to remember he wasn't there anymore. But not you. You… you haven't done any of that. You haven't cried, you haven't screamed… It's time to let go now."

"I don't know how," George whispered, never taking his eyes off of the crashing waves. The cold wind stung his face, forcing watery tears to spring in his eyes.

He felt Bill's shoulder press into his and together the two quietly watched the dark, gray sea and listened to the quiet laughter that floated down on the wind.

Fin


End file.
